


Your Room or Mine?

by agirlintheville



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 plus one fic, Attempted Sexual Assault, Drugged Clint, M/M, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Not Canon Compliant, Painplay, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlintheville/pseuds/agirlintheville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six times that Bruce ended up in Clint's room and their relationship changed. Though, according to Clint, the first five times don't count at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In Clint’s opinion, the first time didn’t count.

It was after a crazy battle involving teleporting aliens and a catapult. Clint had helped oversee the cleanup and had finally made his way back to his rooms. He slumped against the wall of the elevator, grateful that he had taken Tony up on his offer to have a second home at the tower. It was just a bit too far to his apartment in Bed-Stuy. As the elevator rose to his floor, he thought about how good it would feel to sleep forever.

He unlocked the door to his room, carefully leaned his bow and quiver in the corner before shedding his clothes, tossing them around the room. Tugging at his pants leg, he hopped on one foot over to the box of leftover pizza. He managed to snag a slice while finally pulling off his pants. Crowing triumphantly, he turned and saw Bruce on the couch leaning up on his elbows, staring at him.

“Clint?” Bruce sat up all the way and scrubbed at his hair. “What are you doing?”

Clint frowned and gestured with the pizza. “It’s my room. What are you doing here?”

“It’s your...oh. Oh man, I’m sorry. I was tired, I just went into the first door that opened for me. I’ll...I’ll just…” He began to look around for his shoes.

“No, it’s okay, it’s cool. We’re all totally beat. Just, uh, sorry about the mess.”

Bruce shrugged, looking around. “Cleaner than mine. That shoulda tipped me off.”

Bruce’s eyes landed on him, and slowly went down his body. Clint abruptly realized he was standing in his boxer shorts, clutching a wilting slice of pizza in front of one of his teammates who was being a bit obvious in checking him out. Somehow, though, this was less embarrassing than the time that Valkyrie warrior with the whip flayed his clothes off in Times Square.

“So you...you sleep. And I’ll sleep. And we’ll both sleep.”

Backing away, Clint caught a hint of Bruce’s smile. As he went to his bedroom, he heard faintly, “Thanks Clint.”


	2. Chapter 2

Clint would forever insist that the second time didn’t count either because hey insomnia is much better with a buddy, right?  
“I cannot believe how good you are at this game,” Clint grumbled. “When do you even have time to play?”  
“Well, video games are about hand-eye coordination, which you have in spades, but…” Bruce paused to snipe the last two of Clint’s men and the red sign claiming Bruce as the victor flashed across the screen. “There’s also a fair bit of math and probability involved.”  
“Whatever. We’re having a rematch, but a new game.” Clint poured a bit of vodka into each of their glasses. When Bruce raised an eyebrow, he sighed and poured more into his own glass and drank it down.  
“Stupid rules where loser drinks double,” he muttered.  
Bruce laughed, “Clint, you’re the one who made the rules.”  
“Yeah, and you let me make them. Which makes this your fault.”  
Clint smiled as Bruce laughed again. “I like when you laugh.”   
Bruce stopped laughing and blinked at him. Clint blushed and busied himself looking for a new game.  
“What are we playing now?”  
“Aha! A bit of good old fashioned Mario Kart. It’s not SIG Night without Mario Kart.”  
“SIG Night?”  
“Shots, Insominia, and Game Night. Duh.”  
Bruce laughed and poured himself some more alcohol. “You named it?”  
“You didn’t? Come on, Bruce, the rule is that by occurrence number five of anything, you have to name it. Otherwise, it’s just weird.”  
“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that rule.”  
“Well, now you are,” Clint turned to him with a grin and choked in surprise as Bruce pressed a deep kiss to his lips.   
Clint stared as Bruce settled back and took another drink. “I...what?”  
“Load up the game, already. I gotta kick your ass in this one before I fall asleep.”  
“Um. Right, sure.” With another look at him, Clint loaded up the game and settled back to play.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first kind of sexy scene I've ever written. Hope it reads okay!

The third time didn’t count either because Bruce had been in trouble.

Clint slid a knife into his palm as he entered his apartment. Something seemed off, and if someone was lying in wait for him, then he wanted to be ready.

He quietly closed and locked the door. Glancing at the mirror by the door, he scanned the living room. A hunched figure sat stiffly on his couch. Clint studied the silhouette for a minute. “Bruce?”

“Hey Clint,” came the soft response.

Clint placed the knife on a nearby table and approached the couch. “What are you doing in Bed-Stuy, man?”

“Just in the neighborhood, I guess.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Clint fumbled for the lamp switch. “I’ve been wanting to talk you, you know, about what happened last time we hung out…” His voice trailed off as the light came on and he got a good look at his friend.

Bruce had flinched back from the soft light, trying to hide his face, but the purple bruising and swollen eyes were hard to miss. “I, ah, may have gotten myself into some trouble.”

“And is your trouble coming here?”

“No, no. I lost them,” Bruce shook his head slowly.

Clint stared at him for a few more seconds and then went to the kitchen. He snagged a glass and the bottle of vodka. Returning to the living room, he poured the alcohol and shoved the glass into Bruce’s hand. Turning, he went to get the first aid from the TV stand.

“You keep your first aid kit in your TV stand?”

“A surprising number of accidents happen to me in my living room.”

He sat on the coffee table and frowned at Bruce’s still full glass. “You should drink that. Numb the pain.”

“Can’t yet. He’s...he’s little too close to the surface.”

Clint blinked at him. “He didn’t show up already?”

“Would I look like this if he did? They were just kids.” Bruce gave a shaky sigh and gasped quietly. “My side hurts.”

“Right, okay.” Clint reached into the first aid kit and took out an ice pack. Activating it, he gently placed it on Bruce’s eye and took the drink away. “Hold that.”

He knelt in front of Bruce’s knees and pushed the man back against the couch cushions. Clint slid his hands underneath Bruce’s shirt to feel along his ribs. Hearing a pained grunt, Clint murmured, “Sorry, sorry, but I gotta see…”

“Clint.” Bruce’s voice was thin and strained above him.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, but…” Clint continued to press gently. “Okay. They don’t feel broken, just-”

Clint broke off as Bruce grasped his prodding hand tightly. He looked up to see brilliant green eyes staring at him.

“Oh. Oh, shit. Bruce, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

“Just...gimme a second," Bruce panted. Clint sat frozen, fingers held in place. 

Bruce blew out a slow breath. “So, um, this can go only one of two ways at this point.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Either you keep doing that and he shows up. Or…”

Clint waited for a few seconds and then said, “Or?”

“Or you keep doing that and I come in my pants.”

Clint stared up at Bruce, trying to read his swollen eyes.

“Uh, right.” Clint cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of where he was kneeling. “So I opt for the more hopefully pleasurable option?”

Bruce grinned and winced as the cut on his lip split open and began to bleed. “Yeah, me too.”

“So...what do I do here?”

“Trust me?”

“Of course.”

Bruce paused and shook his head. “Of course? Just like that?”

“What? You want me not to trust you?”

“Never mind. Okay,” Bruce moved Clint’s fingers up along his sides. “Press...god...right there. Gently.”

“Like that?”

Bruce moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, god. Yeah, that’s good. More.”

Clint pressed again and swallowed as Bruce dropped his other hand to his crotch and began to rub frantically.

“Bruce?” 

“Just...keep pressing.”

Clint pressed again, while his other hand stroked along Bruce’s other side. Bruce moaned again, his head dropping back to the couch.

“Clint...more...harder.”

“Not yet,” Clint flexed his fingers in Bruce’s grip.

“Please!”

“Not yet, I wanna…”

“What?” Bruce’s eyes snapped open and locked with Clint’s. “You wanna what?”

Clint suddenly rose up and leaned over Bruce, using his teeth to capture his bloody lip. As his teeth clamped down, Clint pressed hard on the cracked ribs.

Groaning in pain, Bruce's hand speed up until gasping into Clint’s mouth, he came hard. He slumped back into the cushions, his breath unsteady.

Clint leaned back and, breathing hard, stared down at the bruised man. He licked his lips and tasted Bruce’s blood, smelled Bruce’s sweat and release in the air. He felt like Bruce was surrounding him, inside and out. This was huge, momentous. He didn’t know what to say, he always had something to say.

“Think I can have that drink now?” Bruce said, still slumped with his eyes closed.

“Oh, yeah. Here.” Clint scrambled off the couch as Bruce’s eyes flicked open. Clint was relieved to see they were brown again.

“You want me to take care of that for you?”

Clint glanced down at his strained jeans and shook his head. “Ah, no. I mean, you’re hurt.” Right, because that excuse was good now.

“Wouldn’t be a hardship. In a good place, right now. Let you do whatever,” Bruce’s voice was slurred and drowsy.

“Oh, man,” Clint stepped back and clasped his hands together so they wouldn’t reach for Bruce. “No, you need to rest.”

“Nah, need to find those kids. Took my laptop,” Bruce slumped deeper into the couch.

“I’ll find it. You sleep.” Clint snagged a blanket to cover Bruce’s limp body. Bruce didn’t even stir.

Clint shook his head and adjusted the blanket. Okay, he had things to do: 1. Go to the bathroom and sort himself out. 2. Tend to Bruce’s injuries. 3. Find those punk kids and teach them about respecting their elders. 4. Breakfast.

The last one gave him pause. What’s a morning after meal for your friend and teammate who just got in a fight and then totally initatied adrenaline fueled pain play sex? Clint mentally shrugged, as he headed to the bathroom. Can’t go wrong with bacon.

~<>~

Clint stood frying eggs as he listened to Bruce’s groans from the living room. He snorted and shook his head. Bruce was a terrible mess when he woke up, he was always so disgruntled. 

As the groans continued, the events from last night flashed through his mind. He cleared his throat and placed the eggs on the plate next to the bacon.

Bruce stumbled into the kitchen, and tossed his body into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He blindly groped in front of him and Clint pushed a mug of coffee within his grasp. Sighing, Bruce brought it up and gulped it down. 

“Ow, shit.” Wincing, he gingerly touched his still swollen lip. 

“Ah, sorry man. Let me get you some ice.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah,” Clint handed a cold pack over and Bruce pressed it to his lip. 

“What am I doing here?”

Clint took a sip of his own coffee. “You don’t remember?”

“Feels like I got into a fight,” Bruce poked gently at his face. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No. You didn’t hulk out.”

“I didn’t?”

“No, you said they were just kids. So I guess you let them beat you up. Oh, I got your laptop back.” Clint waved his hand at Bruce’s stuff sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“Wow, thanks. For doing that, for doing all of this.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Clint pushed the plate of bacon and eggs towards him and studied his face as he began to eat.

Bruce paused and met his gaze, “You okay?

Clint smiled, “You’re the one beat up and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

“Yeah. You seem...quiet?”

Clint looked at him for a few more seconds, then stared down into his coffee. “Was just worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Clint. I’m always fine. Especially if you’re the one taking care of me.” He reached out and put his hand on Clint’s arm.

Clint shrugged, “Yeah, never a problem.” As casually as he could, he eased out of Bruce’s hold and headed towards the living room. He could Bruce’s eyes on him as he went, but he didn’t trust himself to turn around.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint is drugged in this chapter and tries to assault Bruce, so please avoid reading this chapter if this will upset you
> 
> Part of this chapter is told from Bruce's POV.

The fourth time didn’t count because it didn’t. Clint wanted to forget all about the fourth time.

 

“Come on, Bruce. Just one kiss.”

“Clint, stop.”

"Bruce. Brucie. B.B. Hulkie, just one kiss. I’ll make it so good for you.”

Bruce dodged Clint’s grasping hands, as he propelled the archer onto the couch. Clint fell into the cushions heavily and giggled softly.

“This couch. Oh my god, have you felt this couch? It’s so soft. Bruce, you have to feel this.” Flipping over, Clint buried his face in fabric.

Sighing, Bruce kept an eye on him, while he flipped through Tony’s frantic texts.

_ Definitely some kind of toxin. Not sure what it does. JARVIS analyzing now. _

_ Yeah, make sure you keep an eye on him. Looks like it increases sexual arousal and decreases inhibitions. Like a date rape drug, but makes the person interested? Hulk out on him if you need too. _

Bruce snorted and shook his head. Clint had now slid off the couch and was rubbing his hands against the wooden floor. 

_ Seems to be some kind sensory input thing in there too. It’s like LSD and ecstasy put together. Crazy stuff. Make sure he stays hydrated. _

Sighing, Bruce went into the kitchen to fill a glass of water. He jumped as Clint managed to sneak up behind him and press along his back.

“Bruce,” Clint mouthed at the back of his neck. “Whatcha doing, Bruce?”

“Getting you some water. You need to flush the drug out your system.”

“Don’t wanna flush it out. Want you.” Clint began to rub himself against Bruce.

Bruce ignored the clenching in his belly as he felt Clint’s reaction slide against his ass.

“No, you don’t. The way you are right now, you’d be just as happy humping the couch.”

Silence fell behind him, though Clint didn’t stop his motions.

Bruce turned off the tap. “Clint, stop. I can hear you pouting.”

“Not pouting. Rethinking my tactics.”

“Right,” Bruce rolled his eyes and ducked out of Clint’s arms. “Drink this.”

Clint drained the water and placed the glass in the sink, his eyes never leaving the other man. “Bruce. Listen. I may be under the influence of some drug, but I’ve never felt anything more clearly. I want you. Naked. In my bed, on my couch, on my floor, wherever. Under me, over me, beside me. I want it all, and I think you want it too.”

Bruce’s mouth dropped open at Clint’s words. He couldn’t look away from his intense gaze and was startled when Clint gripped his shoulders.

“Bruce,” Clint breathed

Bruce shook himself out of Clint’s hold and backed away into the living room. “Clint, no. You’re drugged, this isn’t what you really want. It’s not going to happen.”

“Then why are you even up here?” The chill in Clint’s voice stopped Bruce in his tracks and he stared at Clint. Despite his flushed cheeks and bright eyes, Clint looked pissed. And mean.

“Clint?”

“You’re just a tease, aren’t you Banner? Only want me on your terms is that it?”

“What are you even talking about?”

Clint began to move towards him, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m talking about how every time you’re in my rooms and drunk or hurt or something, you start coming on to me. Kissing me, jerking off in front of me.”

“Clint...I didn’t...I don’t…” Bruce backed away slowly.

“You don’t remember, do you? How convenient,” Clint threw his hands in the air.

“Clint, I’m sorry. Look, just relax and we’ll talk about this,” Bruce’s legs hit the side of the couch. “Just calm down. The drug will only rile you up further.”

Clint came to a stop in front of him, breathing heavily. “Tell me. Tell me you remember.”

Bruce shook his head, “Clint…”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to make you remember.”

Clint lunged at Bruce and they toppled back on to the couch and rolled to the floor. “Shit, Clint! Stop!” He slapped Clint’s hands away, trying to roll out from under the archer.

Clint pinned him back down to the ground, laying his arm against Bruce’s throat and fumbling at his belt.

“Clint, stop!” Bruce’s hands flew to the weight on his throat, trying to shove Clint off. “This isn't you, stop it. Please, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.”

“I’ll make you remember, I’ll make you want me.”

“Clint, please,” Bruce wheezed and then went still, hand falling slowly to his sides.

Clint froze and lifted up his arm. “Bruce?”

Bruce didn’t move.

“Bruce? Oh my god. Bruce, wake up. I’m sorry, so sorry. Bruce!”

Clint leaned over him and then collapsed in pain as Bruce kneed him in the balls.

Bruce rolled away and came up on his feet as Clint lay groaning on the ground, clutching himself. “Oh my god, you fucker.”

“You deserved it.” Bruce turned aside searching for emergency medical kit Tony had handed him when he had volunteered to take care of Clint.

“I’m think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Good. Aha!” Bruce found the kit and dug for the syringe he wanted. He moved back to Clint and stabbed him in the neck.

“Shit! What was that?”

“Sedative. Sleep it off, Barton.”

“Bruce. Asshole,” Clint’s voice slurred as he went limp. Then his eyes closed and he began to snore.

Bruce stood back, heaving a huge sigh. Then he frowned, unsure how long the sedative would last with the other drug already in his system. He didn’t want to have to restrain the sleeping man. Sighing again, Bruce pulled out his phone and called Tony.

_ “Bruce. How’s Clint?” _

“Had to knock him out. What do we have on the drug?”

_ “Still not a lot. But one thing’s for sure., it’s going to make him pretty unbearable to be around.” _

Bruce snorted, “You don’t say.”

There was a brief silence.  _ “You okay?” _

He rubbed his hand across his face, “I’m fine.”

_ “Need backup?” _

“No, I’m fine”

_ “Bruce.” _

“No, really.” Bruce looked at Clint’s sleeping form. “He’s looked after me plenty of times. I can handle him.”

_ “Okay. Well, yell if you need us.” _

“Yeah, thanks.” Bruce ended the call and prodded at Clint with his foot. If he was going to keep the man company, he might as well make them both comfortable.

~<>~

Clint woke up smothered in blankets. Grunting, he tried to crawl out of them, and a cascade of pots and pans fell onto the floor.

“The fuck?”

He looked up as Bruce appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Bruce? What’s going on?”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Clint said, trying to wriggle his arms from the coverings. “Why am I covered in pots?”

“I didn’t want to restrain you, but I needed a signal for when you woke up.”

“Restrain me? Why would you restrain me?”

Bruce looked at him and moved further into the room, keeping his hands behind his back. “You remember anything?”

“I…” Clint tried to scratch his head and scowled at his arm still caught beneath the blankets. He wrestled it out and rubbed his eyes. “Everything hurts. My neck hurts. I feel like...did you sedate me?”

Bruce nodded, “I had to.”

“You had to? What do you mean you had to? Why would you…” Clint trailed off as his memory shifted back into focus. The meeting at the hotel with the informant, the drug in his drink, his teammates getting him home, Bruce getting him back to his room, and then…

“Oh my god. Oh my god,”

Clint struggled and tripped out of the blankets, shoving the rest of the pots off his body.

“Why do I have so many pots? Jesus. Bruce, I’m so so sorry,” Clint froze when he saw Bruce was backing away from him.

Raising his hands, Clint stepped back and sat on the couch. Bruce relaxed slightly and sat down in an armchair across the room. He pulled his hands from behind his back and balanced the knife and stun gun on his knees.  Clint swallowed when he saw the weapons.

Bruce shrugged, "I didn’t know what you’d be like when you woke up, and I wanted to be prepared.”

“Bruce, I’m so sorry for attacking you. That wasn’t me, that wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, Clint. I know. I’m sorry too.”

There was a long silence as both men stared at the ground. Then Clint looked up, frowning, “Wait, why are you sorry?”

Bruce opened his mouth to answer, then a knock sounded at the door. Glancing at him, Bruce placed his weapons on the coffee table and moved to the door to let Tony in.

“Hey Clint,” Tony strolled in. “Good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Yeah, that happens. I got the antidote and I put a little special cocktail in it. Make you feel right as rain.”

“Something tells me that you shouldn’t be messing around with different medications, Tony.”

“Ah come on, I use it all the time when things get painful in the lab. Don’t I, Bruce?”

Both men looked up at the empty doorway. Bruce was gone. 

“Uh, okay. Well, anyway I use it a lot. Here, lemme stick ya.” Still staring at the doorway, Clint held his arm out as Tony prepared the syringe. 

“Don’t worry, Clint. You’ll sleep it off, and everything will be as good as new tomorrow.”


	5. Chapter 5

The fifth time almost counted. Bruce certainly counted it, but Clint didn't. _"The fifth time didn't have the right happy ending, Bruce!"_

 

Squinting at one of the many targets on the far wall, Kate spun an arrow between her fingers and said, “Off the back of the couch, knock down the metal spoon, and into the target.”

Clint took the arrow from her and lifted it to his bow. “Do I get extra points if I knock down both spoons?”

Kate shrugged her shoulders, “Sure, why not?”

Clint released the arrow and they both watched it zing around the room, glancing off the back of the couch, knocking down two metal spoons from a side table, and finally thunking into the bulls eye of one of the targets.

Kate stepped forward to pick out another arrow from the quiver in front of them. “So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, so I just get to watch your stupid face mope without any context?”

Clint scowled at her, “I’m not moping. And it’s your face that’s stupid. Off the floor, against the front door handle, knock down the Cap figurine and into the target.”

“Pretty sure you’re moping”

“Am not.”

“What would you call it then?”

“I’d call it thinking deeply about my place in this world. Are you going to shoot or what?”

“Easily,” Kate smirked at him and released her arrow, not even bothering to watch as it flew on the course that Clint had described. “I believe I’m winning.”

“Whatever. I’m distracted.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

“I’m not!” Clint rubbed at his face and looked up to see Kate staring at him. “What?”

She shrugged, “It’s just...I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Clint sighed and stared at his shoes. He muttered,“Katie...I can’t...I don’t even want to tell it to myself and I was there.”

“Okay, okay, no more pushing, I get it.” She picked up another arrow. “I guess we can keep shooting until you feel better.”

“Yeah, okay.” He took the arrow from her “What am I doin’?”

“Um, how about off the mirror frame, through the kitchen bar window, off the coat rack, and into the target.”

“Pfft, not even a challenge.”

As Clint put his arrow to the string, a knock sounded at the door. Kate glanced at her watch, “Oh, that might be Parmars. I told them I’d babysit their kids tonight.”

“You babysit for people in my building?”

“Yeah, they’re super cool. Do you know their oldest daughter dances? I went to her recital, so friggin cute.” The knock came again. “It’s open,” Kate yelled.

Clint drew the arrow back. Just as he was about to release it, a familiar voice came from the opened door.

“Uh...hello?”

Kate turned with a wide grin, “Dr. Banner!”

Clint jerked and the arrow went wild. Horrified, he watched it fly around the room, knocking over several water bottles, glancing off a door frame, and headed straight towards-

“Bruce, watch out!”

Bruce jumped backwards just as the arrow tore through the bag in his hands and embedded itself into a low hanging target on the wall.

All three of them stared at the arrow quivering in the target. Kate crossed her arms and scowled, “That doesn’t count.”

Clint spun towards her, “It totally does! I hit the target!”

“You didn’t follow the path!”

“But I still hit the target!”

“Uh, guys?” Bruce interrupted from the doorway. “I don’t suppose I get could get help with this?”

Clint stuck his tongue out at Kate, and turned to Bruce, who was holding a leaking paper bag in his hands. “Shit, Bruce, I’m sorry! Here, let’s put that over here.”

He ushered Bruce towards the kitchen to deposit the bag in the sink. 

“I’m really sorry, Bruce,” Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “Kate and I were playing arrow pool and it can get out of hand sometimes.”

“Arrow pool?” Bruce glanced at him as he began remove items from the bag.

“Yeah, it’s like doing trick shots in pool, but...with uh, arrows. God, that sounds stupid now that I’ve said out loud.”

“Stupidly awesome,” Kate called from the living room. Clint glared in her direction, but she was turned away, cleaning up the items that had been knocked down during their game.

Bruce chuckled, “It does sorta sound stupidly awesome.”

“Really?” Clint said, ignoring how his stomach seemed to flip over “But I ruined your stuff.” 

“It was just the jug of water. The food’s still okay.”

Clint frowned at the cartons of food that were being unloaded onto his kitchen counter.  “What is all this? Why is there food?”

“I thought I could make you dinner.”

Clint blinked, “Make me dinner?”

“Yeah. I...um,” Bruce took a deep breath, and turned trying to meet Clint’s eyes. “it’s been awhile since we hung out and I thought that...I mean, I promised, a long time ago, to make this Brazilian dish for you and I thought this would be a good time to do it.”

“Wow, uh, that sounds great,” Clint shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking everywhere except at Bruce. “But only if you have enough for Kate as well.”

“What? I heard my name,” Kate yelled.

Clint moved to the doorway, “Just telling Bruce that you’re staying for dinner.”

“I am?” She looked up at Clint to catch the frantic face he was making at her. She sighed, “I mean, I am. Staying for dinner. If that’s okay.”

Clint turned back to Bruce to see him slump a little. “Sure, yeah, I brought plenty of food.”

“Great!” Clint edged out of the kitchen, rambling. “Then the kitchen is yours. Mi cocina es tu cocina and all that. I guess that should have been Portugese since we’re having Brazilian, but you get the idea, and I’ll just leave you to it, yell if you need help and stuff. I’m just gonna go get some air, on the outside, on the window.”

Ignoring the confused looks on Bruce and Kate’s faces, Clint headed towards his living room window and climbed out onto the fire escape. He gripped the cool metal of the railing tightly and squeezed his eyes shut. He shivered in the slight breeze. Stupid October chill. He was wondering if it would be awkward to go back inside to get a jacket and then come back out again when behind him, he felt someone land lightly on the balcony.

“Kate, this is fucked up. This is so...I don’t know what to do. I can’t even be in the same room as him. And it’s all my fault. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Clint, you know I don’t blame you for anything.”

Clint groaned and leaned to hit his forehead against the metal bar. “Bruce?”

“Yeah?”

“Great.” He continued to hit his head.

“Come on, Clint, don’t.” He felt Bruce grip his shoulder to pull him away. Clint shrugged out of his hold and moved away. He opened his eyes to see Bruce watching him warily.

“What happened to making dinner?”

Bruce gestured to inside the apartment. “Kate said she’d be my sous chef.”

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t know if you should trust her with knives or food. I should go check on her.” Clint moved to push past the other man.

“Clint. Please.”

He sighed, and slumped back against the railing. He met Bruce’s eyes.  “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey.” Bruce gave him a small smile. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Clint tipped his head back and crossed his arms. “Yeah, okay. We should talk. Look, Bruce-”

“Clint. I’m sorry.”

Clint straightened and narrowed his eyes. “You’re sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m the one who attacked you.”

Bruce waved his response away, “You were drugged, and you didn’t hurt me. Plus, I could have hulked out on you.”

“But…”

“Clint. Seriously. Honestly. Truthfully. I appreciate your apology, but you have nothing to feel sorry for. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ve been sending some very mixed signals.”

Clint scratched at his head. “Mixed signals? Is that what you’re calling it?”

Bruce made a face, “Yeah, I know. I dunno.” He pushed his hands through his hair and began to pace on the small balcony. Clint watched him, shivering slightly, and after a minute, Bruce leaned against the window panes.

“I have made some incredibly inappropriate advances on you. And I made them when we were both in compromising situations and we couldn’t really think clearly. I also realize that I never addressed them with you later on, making you think that I didn’t remember. But I did. Remember, I mean.  And I’m sorry.”

“Bruce…” Clint stopped as the other man held up his hand.

“Just let me get through this, please.”

Clint frowned but mimed locking his lips and throwing a key.

“Thanks,” Bruce sighed and walked over to lean against the railing next to Clint. “I am very sorry Clint. I just had all these feelings about you, and I didn’t know how to express any of them. I put our friendship at risk and took advantage of you. And there’s simply no excuse for my behavior these past few months.”

He fell silent, then slanted a look towards Clint.

“Oh, can I talk now?”

“Yes, though…”

“Nope. My turn.” He pushed off the balcony and moved to stand in front of Bruce. “How do you feel now?”

“What?”

“You said you had all these feelings about me. How do you feel now?”

Bruce searched his eyes and let out a breath, “I think....I think I will always feel the same way about you. Completely and utterly overwhelmed by you in every sense and every way. You’re the first person I think about in the mornings, and I want your face to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep.”

Clint blinked, and let out a small disbelieving laugh. “God, Bruce, you...really? That’s how you...I mean really?”

Bruce shook his head, “Look, Clint, you’re my best friend. And if I’ve ruined everything, then I’ll make it better, I promise. I can make it better- ”

“Just stop. Just,” Clint laughed again and pressed forward to touch his forehead to Bruce’s. He whispered, “No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

He felt Bruce shrug as he replied, “I’ll say it to you every day if you let me.”

Clint smiled, “Yeah. That sounds...every day sounds good.” He cupped his hands around Bruce’s face, and kissed him once, gently. As he stepped back, Bruce's hands flew up to catch his arms and hold him in place. 

Clint grinned, “What happened to dinner?”

“I’m sure Kate’s a better cook than you think she is.” Clint laughed as Bruce began to press kisses to his jaw. By the time the kisses reached his mouth, Clint had settled heavily against Bruce’s body, trapping him against railing. The wind blew around them, but Clint was warmed by the heat radiating from Bruce’s body. He shivered not from the cold, but from the lingering streaks of heat on his biceps as Bruce stroked his arms. Clint tangled his fingers in Bruce’s curls, holding his head steady to deepen the kiss, to taste Bruce’s lips with his tongue. Bruce groaned as his mouth fell open, and Clint felt hands slide to grip his hips.

“Clint.” He moaned in response. This was everything.

“Clint!” He tried to press himself even closer, he had been trying to deny this craving for so long.

“Goddammit, Clint!” He jerked back in surprise, staring at Bruce. Bruce stared back and then switched his attention to the window. “Oh. Oh, dear.” He dropped his hands from Clint’s hips and clasped them behind his back.

“Wha-”

“Clint, your phone!”

He looked over his shoulder, blinking. “Kate?” She was half out the window, waving his phone at him.

“Oh my god, seriously? Yes, Kate! Your phone is ringing! Stop making out and come answer it!” 

Clint blinked again and then physically shook himself. He stumbled for the window and climbed back into his apartment. 

“Here.” Katie thrust the phone at him. “I cannot believe your ringtone for SHIELD is the Mission Impossible theme song. “

“Yes, you can,” Clint smirked at her as he grabbed at the phone. “Hello? Yes. Yes, sir.” He hung up and waited for the texts with his authentication code and mission details to come through.

“Is it the Avengers?” Clint looked up to see Bruce climbing back into the apartment.

“No, SHIELD. They need me for something,” Clint said absently as the reports and images began downloading onto his phone. He looked up again, but Bruce was gone.

“Where…”

“Kitchen,” Kate answered, moving around him to gather her stuff. 

“Where are you going?”

“I told you I was babysitting tonight. ‘Sides, looks like you have some things to do. Innuendo intended.”

“Jeez don’t do that. Oh, hey, wait?”

Kate paused at the door, and tilted her head at him.

“Thanks for earlier, for the distractions.”

She snorted, “Yeah. Glad to see you worked your shit out.” She glanced at the kitchen, and smirked. “Never thought I’d say this but he’s pretty hot when he’s all ruffled and his mouth is all red and swollen…”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Clint muttered. He could feel his cheeks heating up. “Aren’t you dating someone?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t window shop.”

Clint closed his eyes, and shook his head, “Please don’t say things like that to me.”

She laughed, “Whatever, man. Hey good luck with that,” she nodded to the phone,  “and that” she nodded towards the kitchen. “Bye, Dr. Banner.” she called out.

Bruce appeared at the kitchen doorway, “Bye, Kate. Thank you for chopping everything.”

“You’re welcome!” With one last smirk towards Clint, she disappeared through the doorway.

Clint sighed, and turned to look at Bruce. Bruce looked back at him, “You're needed somewhere?”

“Uh yeah,” Clint flicked through the phone. “Yes, extraction in 10 minutes.”

“Oh, okay,” Bruce put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. “You should eat before you go...are you hungry?”

Clint tossed his phone on the couch, and moved closer to Bruce. “Yes. But not for food.” He winced, “Oh man, sorry. That was lame. Was that lame?”

“A little lame,” Bruce grinned. He grasped Clint’s shirt and pulled him in. “But I don’t mind.”

“Awesome. Can we do a rain check on dinner?” Clint slid his arms around Bruce’s waist and began to kiss his neck.

“Sure. Kate’s already packed everything up and put it in the fridge.” He let out a small gasp as Clint brushed his lips over a sensitive spot. “She’s a good kid, you know.”

Clint leaned back and scowled, “No. No talking about Kate while we’re doing this. She has the hots for you and I refuse to encourage any talk of her.”

“Clint, she’s a kid.”

“No. No talk.” He stepped back and took Bruce’s wrist to pull him to the couch. “Come on.”

Clint flopped back on the couch and pulled Bruce down with him. Bruce smiled patiently as Clint rearranged their limbs until they fit together comfortably. “Perfect,” he breathed as he tilted Bruce’s head down. Bruce resisted, pushing back up on his elbows. “What, what’s wrong? This is too fast, isn’t it? Shit, I’m sorry, what’s-”

“Uh, hello.”

Clint blinked up at Bruce, and twisted around to see Diaz standing by the arm of the couch, grinning down at them.

“Shit!” He flopped around, trying to sit up, pushing Bruce, who hit the floor with a grunt. “Shit, Bruce! Sorry!” He leaned over to help him up before glaring at the agent, who was rocking back and forth on her feet, thumbs tucked into her belt.

“Diaz, what the hell are you doing here?”

She smirked at him, “Your door was unlocked. You would think a SHIELD agent would have better security.”

“I have great security!”

“You can’t even lie convincingly to yourself. I’m so glad that you least turn it on for missions.”

Clint stood up and crossed his arms. “Speaking of missions, pickup was in 10 minutes.”

Diaz shook her head, “So you decided to spend your 10 minutes frenching the good doctor instead of getting ready?” She craned her neck to glance at Bruce, who was behind Clint trying to be unobtrusive. “Hello, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce gave a little wave, and cleared his throat. “So I should be going, I think.”

“Aww, Bruce, no. Just wait a sec, I’ll get rid of her.”

“No you won’t,” Diaz said in a sing song voice. “I’m your handler tonight.” She settled in on the arm of the couch, leaning back comfortably. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a bag of peanuts and began to shell them.

“Can you not?” Clint groaned. 

Bruce smiled at both of them, and patted Clint’s arm. “I’ll see you later, Clint. Um, I'll call you?”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

Bruce gave him one last smile, and quietly left. 

Clint stared at the door, until he felt peanut shells ping off of his head. “Aw come on!”

Diaz shrugged, “Sorry. Look when the mission’s over, I will take you out for drinks and you can yell at me all you want for ruining your date night. But right now, we have an arms dealer to stop.” She stood up and stretched. “‘Sides, 10 minutes is up. We’re supposed to be on the roof.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. He grabbed his phone from the couch, then went to kitchen, and reached in one of the cabinets to grab his mission kit. “Let’s go.”

“In your kitchen, Barton? People make food in there.”

“Yeah, last place anyone would look. Now, let’s go.”

~<>~

Clint woke up to the sound of beeping. He knew that sound. He rolled his head to the side to see Diaz sitting beside him, flicking through a magazine. He groaned at her. Looking up, she smiled at him. “Hey, sleepy. Welcome back.”

He coughed and croaked, “What ‘appen?”

“Here,” she handed him a cup of water and held the straw steady.

He sipped slowly. “Whas going on?”

“The mission was successful, we tagged the guy, but his backup came sooner than we anticipated. One of them got you in the back of the head during the ruckus.”

“How long?”

“How long have you been here? A few days. I’ll go get the doctor, see how much longer they want you to stay.”

Clint grunted in agreement, then waved his arm frantically, “Wai, wai!”

“Yeah?”

“Phone?”

Diaz pulled a bag from the floor and plopped it in the chair. “Everything’s here. But, I should tell you…” she paused and then shrugged. “He didn’t call.”

“Oh,” Clint slumped back into his bed.

“That could be nothing. I mean, he thinks you’re on a mission, you know.”

“Yeah,” he closed his eyes and grimaced. “Doc?”

“Sure, I’ll get him.” 

Clint waited until he heard the door click before letting out a tiny sob. He let himself have a few minutes to feel absolutely terrible before he wiped his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “Enough, Clint. New plan. Time to take action.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading this! I'm very happy since 1. I actually finished a multi chapter story and 2. I wrote a sex scene!  
> In celebration, I'm opening up my ask box on [tumblr](http://unnaturalnoise.tumblr.com/ask). Leave me a pairing or a prompt, and I'll write you a story :)
> 
> Enjoy and let me know how it reads!

The sixth time Bruce came to his room...well, it was the perfect ending Clint had been waiting for.

Clint sat on his couch, head tipped back and eyes closed. The pain from his concussion had faded into the background as the painkillers had finally kicked in. He’d be feeling really good right now if his heart didn’t hurt so much. He sighed and shifted to make himself more comfortable.

“So, are we doing this all night?”

Clint opened his eyes enough to see Kate sitting in the armchair across from him, legs crossed neatly under her lilac dress. “You don’t have to sit here with me. Aren’t you going to a thing?”

“Yes, Stark’s Halloween Eve gala. And yes, I do have to sit here. I need to make sure you don’t decide to jump off the roof.”

He shut his eyes again, and scoffed, “I’m not gonna do that, Katie. I just wanna be alone.”

“Clint.” He heard the rustle of her dress as she stood up and moved closer to him. “Why don’t you come with me? I know you were invited, and I know you have at least one nice suit somewhere here.”

He shook his head slightly, wincing as a bolt of pain sliced across the right side of his skull. “Nah, you go have fun. I’m gonna stay here and enjoy these pills.”

She was silent for a moment. He listened to her shift her weight and clutch her skirts. He wasn’t surprised when she knelt on the couch next to him, and he moved his head so that she could cuddle close and wrap her hands around his neck.

“I worry about you.” The words came out in a whisper.

“Yeah, I know.” He breathed in her spicy perfume and breathed out, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, you always are.”

“Sorry,” he said again and she snorted in reply.

Untangling herself, she stood up. “Want me to smash some sense into Banner?”

He smiled and opened his eyes. “You really would. You would go toe to toe with the Hulk.”

"No," she corrected, "with Banner. I’ll leave you to deal with the Hulk."

Chuckling, he leaned forward to grab the pill bottle from the coffee table. "Leave him alone, Kate. I just need a day or so to mope and then I’ll talk to him." He popped open the bottle and shook out a pill. He swallowed it dry, then stood up and stretched. "Go to the ball, Cinderella. You don’t want it to get too close to midnight."

"Yeah," she picked up her purse and jacket. "What are you gonna do?"

"Eat, sleep, nothing bad or dangerous, I promise."

"Okay. Okay, then I’m gonna go."

Grabbing a hoodie from the floor, he pulled it on and watched her make her way to the door. She paused and turned back to him. "I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re not dead."

"Okay."

"Seriously, don’t do anything weird."

"Jeez, it’s like you don’t trust me or something."

She raised an eyebrow, "You’ve met you, right?"

"Kate."

"Yeah, okay, just...get some sleep."

"Yeah." She opened the door to leave, and he called out, "Oh wait, Kate?"

She turned back, the light from the hallway shining around her, making her dress sparkle. He smiled and said, "You look incredible. Like really fantastic."

She grinned, "Well thank you, Hawkeye."

"You’re welcome, Hawkeye."

She laughed and left, shutting the door gently behind her.

Clint moved around, snapping off the few lights that were on. Heading to his bedroom, he fell face first into his mattress. Sleeping would be a good idea. Sleeping would be the best idea.

~<>~

Two hours later, he woke up nauseated and slightly dizzy. Sleeping was not the best idea; he really should have eaten before passing out. Clint stumbled to the kitchen, but the fridge was pathetically empty except for...he pulled out several containers of something red and fuzzy. Great.

He squinted at the clock and then staggered to the door to tug on his sneakers. There was a sandwich place that was open late, he could get some food there. He pulled up his hood and jammed his hands in his pockets and headed out.

He wished he had thought to buy food beforehand. Maybe he could call Bruce. Maybe Bruce would come by and make dinner for him again. He was out of it enough that it took him until he reached his front stoop to remember that Bruce hadn’t call him in a week, probably didn’t like him anymore, and that he was really bummed out over it. Hunching in on himself, he began to walk, scowling at the ground.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that it took him two blocks to realize that 1. The sandwich place was in the other direction, and 2. he had walked right into a mugging.

"Uh," Clint looked with wide eyes at the two men pointing their guns at the young couple cowering at the side of a building. "So what’s going on, fellas?"

The tension stretched out with Clint staring at the muggers and slowly trying to angle his body in front of the whimpering couple. The armed men were looking back and forth at their targets until one of them said, "Wait, what are we waiting for?"

Clint dived low, tackling the one who spoke and yelled, "Run, call the police!"

A shot went off over his head, but he ignored it as he punched his opponent in the face and wrestled for the fallen gun. Clint grabbed it, rolled and came up in a crouch, leveling the gun at the remaining man. He blinked as he realized the man was on the ground, clutching his leg and crying.

"What the hell?"

"You shot me! Why’d you do that?"

"Seriously? I didn’t shoot you! How’d you get shot? Did...did you shoot yourself?"

The man sobbed out, "I don’t know, oh my god, this fucking hurts."

"How did you shoot yourself? This is incredible."

"Fuck you!" Shaking, the man pointed his gun at Clint, and Clint fired at his shoulder. The gun dropped and the man fell backwards, screaming, "Oh my god, you shot me!"

"Well, you were gonna shoot me! I mean, honestly, that’s how a gun fight works!" Clint stood up and frowned. "Wait. Where’s…"

He spun around just in time to catch the arm of the first man, who had managed to get behind him. The man punched Clint in the stomach with his free hand. Grunting, Clint doubled over and then felt the world tilt as the man tackled him to the ground. He landed hard on his back, smacking his head to the concrete. _Aw head_ , he thought, as pain flared hot and piercing.

He shoved the man off and rolled to his feet. Or at least he tried. As soon as he stood up, he stumbled over, clutching his head. The punch to the jaw didn’t help either. He fell against the wall of the building, then flipped around to face his attacker.

Clint stared at the gun that was pointing in his face, then stared at the man holding it. "Okay, I think we got off to a bad start."

"Shut up." The gun wavered a bit, then steadied.

"No, nope, if this is happening, then I want to go out talking."

"I said shut up!"

"Your buddy over there isn't doing too well." The man paused and shot a quick look to the side, where the second man was quietly whimpering. He looked back, not realizing that Clint had pushed himself off the wall to move closer.

"He’ll live."

"Yeah, but infection is a bitch, you know. And word gets around. No one wants to work with a guy who gets them shot. You know how important a good reputation is, right?"

"Can you please stop talking?"

"No, nope, no way, nada. Physically impossible. Many have asked, can’t be done."

"Rick, help me. Please." Distracted by the low cry, the mugger looked over again. Clint moved closer.

"Yeah, Rick, go help him. He might die."

"Shut up! And hey, stop moving!" Both men startled as sirens sounded in the distance, steadily coming closer.

Clint smirked, "Oh, they’re coming, Rick. They’re coming for ya."

"Rick, please!"

"Goddammit!" Rick looked around wildly, and Clint grabbed his arm, kneed him in the stomach, and punched him in the face in one smooth motion. As he fell, Clint twisted the gun away from him. Then he backed away, swearing and squinting as bright lights were trained on him.

"Fuck, I can’t see!"

He screwed his eyes shut, and a voice rang out, "Put the gun down and your hands up."

"Come on man, I’m an Avenger!"

"I said put the gun down!" He dropped the gun and felt a body tackle him to the ground.

He groaned, "Seriously, I’m an Avenger, Hawkeye, ya know." He felt cuffs tighten around his wrists and he was hauled up and leaned against a wall. He was able to open his eyes enough to see the blurry form of a police officer in front of him. "Hey man, my head hurts. I think I need to see a doctor?"

~<>~

Clint swung his legs back and forth on the hospital bed as he waited. He pulled his handcuffed wrist against the bed frame and listened to it clink. He did it again just because he liked the sound. The officer standing guard at the door glared, and Clint grinned back.

Then the curtain separating him from the rest of the emergency room yanked open, and Diaz stood there, looking beautiful in a sleeveless red dress, black hair tumbling down her back.

"Hey Chrys!" Clint said cheerfully. "Lookin' good!"

She rolled her eyes and flashed her SHIELD ID at the officer. "He’s with me, you can release him."

The officer grunted, "Finally. He’s a pain in the ass," and released Clint from the restraints.

"Preaching to the choir my friend." Diaz pulled the curtain closed as the officer left.

Clint leaned back, resisting the urge to rub his wrist. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to Stark’s party."

"I was at Stark’s party," she sighed, plopping into a nearby chair. "I was definitely at Stark’s party surrounded by beautiful people wearing beautiful things, and was about to make an appointment with a beautiful man to see the inside of his probably beautiful hotel room, when lo and behold I get a call saying my agent has been arrested because he was picking a fight with two gunman instead of being on bed rest like he was told to be."

Clint held up a finger, "Okay, first of all I wasn’t picking a fight, I was helping a nice young couple not get mugged."

"Oh yeah," Diaz interrupted, "I forgot." She stepped outside for a moment and came back with a teddy bear and flowers. "That couple got you this. They said thank you." She placed it in his arms, and he blinked at it.

"Oh wow," he said softly and sniffed.

She raised her eyebrows, "Wow, okay. It’s just flowers."

"And a teddy bear!" He held it up to show her. "Look, it says 'Thank you beary much!'"

"Wow," she repeated. "They have you on some good stuff. What was the second thing?"

"Huh?"

"You said first of all. Usually something follows that."

"Oh right," Clint shifted the flowers. "Second of all, I was hungry and didn’t have food which is why I wasn’t resting. I went to get dinner. And third of all...why did you get a call?"

"Well, since you were injured and just got out of the hospital this morning- by the way, nice job on getting admitted to the hospital again in under twenty-four hours, that's a new record," she paused to frown at him. He shrugged in return. "Anyway, you haven’t done your debrief yet and as you know, I’m still your handler until all the paperwork is filed on the mission. And if an agent gets into legal trouble, their most current handler is called for backup."

Clint frowned, "Oh right. Sorry."

"Yeah, it’s fine," she sighed and fell back into the chair, crossing her arms.

They sat in silence for moment, then Clint added, "Though maybe this is just payback or karma or something, cause ya know, you previously broke up a romantic moment for me."

"I hate you."

"I know."

Sweetly, she said, "Banner looked amazing tonight, so suck on that. All wrapped up in silver and silk. You could have been slow dancing with him, and instead you’re in the hospital."

She stopped at the stricken look on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," Clint looked down and hid his face in the flowers.

Diaz moved to sit on the bed next to him. "You still haven’t talked to him." She sighed when Clint shook his head. "Why not?"

He shrugged. She sighed again and leaned her head on his shoulder. They sat there together in silence until the doctor came with the discharge papers.

~<>~

As Diaz drove him home, he stared out the window, every so often smelling the flowers in his arms.

She looked over at him, "Penny."

"Hm?"

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh. Just wondering...did your parents name you after the flower or the book?"

She raised an eyebrow and turned back to the road. "Is that really what you were thinking?"

"Yeah."

She was silent for a moment. "Liar. But...after the book. Chrysanthemum was my mother's favorite book to read out loud."

"Huh."

"How about you?"

"What, my name?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, um. Family name. My mother’s favorite brother. He died young."

She sighed as she slowed the car and parked it by his building. "You always get like this after a mission or a fight, you know."

"Like what?" he turned to face her.

"Maudlin. Very aware of your mortality."

Clint snorted, "I had a gun to my face tonight. Plus the guy I’m in love hasn't called me in a week. I think I can be excused for being a little down."

"I’m just saying you should channel it in something more positive. You know, like a vow to better the world or maybe engage in some life affirming sex. That’s what I’m gonna do, as soon as you get out of my car."

"And who would I have life affirming sex with?"

"Maybe with the man you're in love with? Who you should have called this morning? Or perhaps can just go talk to if you would get out of my car and see that he's waiting for you in front of your building?"

Clint turned and saw Bruce standing next to the door of his apartment building, waving with a small smile.

Without looking away, he asked, "Did you know he was gonna be here?"

"I may have texted him when I got to the hospital. And when we left." He looked at her with eyebrows raised, and she scowled, "So I want to see you happy for once, it’s no big deal."

"Aw, Chrys you love me."

"Get out of my car."

"But you love me!"

"Now."

"Okay," Clint scooted out, then paused. "Hey, thanks."

She smiled, "You’re welcome. Now seriously, don’t get in any more trouble tonight or I will kill you."

"No, you won’t. Because you love-" she reached over and pulled the car door shut, cutting him off.

He waved as she pulled away, then walked towards Bruce.

"Hey."

"Hi Clint." Bruce fidgeted with his hands and then put them in his pockets. "Nice flowers."

"Oh yeah," he raised them a little to show them off. "Reward for being a hero."

"Yeah, I heard. Are you okay? I mean, I know they discharged you, but-"

"I’m fine. I mean, you know, concussion, maybe a hairline fracture in my skull, they weren’t sure. So bed rest for a week, then headaches for a few months. But I’ll be fine."

"Okay," Bruce nodded. He paused and added softly, "I was really worried."

Clint looked at him. Bruce was tense, his body pulled in on himself. The silver grey suit he was wearing stretched tightly across his shoulders.

"Bruce, I could use some help getting up to my apartment. Do you mind?"

"Oh yeah, of course, sure."

They made it up to the apartment, neither of them knowing how to break the silence. Opening the door, Clint placed his flowers on a small nearby table. Bruce followed him in and closed the door.

"Do you want anything to drink? I’d offer food but I don’t have any. Though food would be amazing right now, I only got a sandwich at the hospital, and-" Clint trailed off as he turned and saw Bruce’s frown. "Bruce?"

"I spoke to Agent Diaz at the party tonight. I recognized her from...earlier."

"Oh. Okay, yeah. Chrys is great."

"She said your mission only lasted a couple of days."

"Yeah. It did."

"I didn’t...I didn’t know you were back. No one told me you were back. And tonight, she said you tried to stop an armed robbery."

Clint rubbed at his head carefully and sat down on the arm of the couch. "It was a mugging, though armed robbery sounds really exciting."

"Clint, that’s not the point." 

"Then what is the point?"

"The point is I didn’t know where you were!" Bruce ran his hands through his hair in frustration and began to pace in tight circles. "And you’ve been hurt and in trouble all this time, and I didn’t know!"

Clint bit his lip. "Did you ask?"

"Did I ask?"

"Did you ask anybody where I was?"

"Of course I did! I called, and they said you were on radio blackout or radio silence or something, and your phone was off. And-" Bruce broke off abruptly and stopped in front of Clint. "Wait, did you think I didn’t ask? That I didn't try to find out?"

Clint lowered his eyes. Bruce shook his head. "Why would you think that? Why would you think that I wouldn't-" He shoved a hand through his hair again. "Clint, please look at me."

Clint sighed and looked up at him. "Bruce, I was hit in the head during the mission. Spent a few days out of it, and when I woke up, Chrys said that I hadn’t gotten any calls. So, I thought..." he looked away with a shrug.

"You thought what? That I just didn’t care to call you?"

He responded with another shrug. Bruce shook his head and scoffed, "Then why didn’t you call me or send a message or something? I know you, Clint. You wouldn’t just sit around waiting for a phone call."

"I just got home this morning and I was going to call but I heard Stark was having a party, so I thought I’d wait and then...then this evening I had a gun pointed in my face and I thought...I thought maybe I shouldn’t wait any more."

Clint took a deep breath. "I like you Bruce. So much...maybe too much. And I know you said that you felt the same but that was last week, and apparently, a hell of a lot can happen in a day, let alone a week, and I just want to make sure that you didn't change your mind or were caught up in a moment or something."

Bruce moved closer until his knees bumped Clint’s. "One unexpected thing that you learn when you’re on the run is how to tell which emotions are true at the moment and which are true and long lasting. I meant every word I said to you and I’m not going to change my mind." 

Clint reached out and ran his hands down Bruce’s arms until he was able to weave their fingers together. "That’s good to know. So we’re on the same page?"

"I know I’m on that page. Are you?"

"Yeah, I am. Help me up?"

Bruce tugged him up gently, and Clint used the momentum to tuck his body in close. He let go of one hand to pull Bruce in for a kiss. Bruce held him tightly, trying to put all of his emotions into their embrace. After a few moments, Clint stepped back, licking his lips and breathing in the clean scent of Bruce’s cologne.

"Definitely on the same page."

Bruce grinned, "I’d say so."

Clint tilted his head, and ran his hands down Bruce’s arms again. Then across his shoulders and suit lapels. He raised an eyebrow at the feel of the material. "This is a nice suit. What is this, silk?"

"Oh, ah," Bruce looked down, watching the wandering hands stroking across his chest. "Yeah, Tony got it made for me. For tonight."

"It’s really very nice." Clint bit his lip thoughtfully and added, "I want to ruin it."

Bruce swallowed hard, "You want to ruin it?"

"Yes." Clint slid his hands inside the jacket, letting them wander across Bruce’s back. He continued in a contemplative tone, "I want to tear it off of you until it's lying in a shredded heap on the floor of my bedroom. But before that I really want to rip your pants open and suck your cock until you come in my mouth."

"Oh...that's, uh, quite an image."

"Yep." Clint gave him a quick grin before leaning in for another kiss.

This time it was Bruce who stepped back. "Wait, Clint." With some difficulty he grasped Clint's roaming hands and held them still. "Maybe we should wait. I mean, you just got out of the hospital."

Clint looked at him, unimpressed. "Bruce. I am going to my bedroom and I am going to take my clothes off. Make sure you turn off the lights and lock the door before you join me."

He heard Bruce's quiet gulp as he turned away and walked quickly to his room, shedding clothes as he went. Laying back on his bed, he palmed himself through his boxer briefs and grinned. Finally. After months of confusion and wavering, a week of heartache, finally, tonight was going to happen.

It was less than a minute before Bruce appeared in the doorway, eyes immediately running over Clint’s body. Clint propped himself up on one elbow and trailed his fingers over his cock, smiling as Bruce licked his lips.

"I think I like you watching me."

Bruce's eyes flew to meet his. "Is that what you want? For me to watch?"

Clint let out a small laugh. "Later. Right now..." He sat up and reached out to Bruce.

Bruce moved closer until Clint grabbed his suit jacket in both hands. Obediently, following insistent tugs, he straddled Clint's legs, tracing the hardness and muscle of his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, perfect," Clint whispered. He tugged again on the jacket, and Bruce bent for a kiss, this one harder and more desperate than before. Clint's hands stroked all over, trying to touch as much as he could. He held Bruce's hips steady, slowly thrusting against him.

Bruce tore his mouth away, groaning, "Clint..."

Clint pressed his lips everywhere he could reach, down Bruce's chin, ear, his neck. Settling at his shoulder, he bit down, teeth gripping the silky smoothness of the suit. 

"Clint!" Bruce's words came in a soft pant. 

"Yeah, look at you. We haven't even started and you're a wreck," Clint pressed his forehead into Bruce's neck and felt the whimper in other man's throat.

Clint raised his head and looked into Bruce's eyes. They were blown black, the brown almost gone. "Okay, how much do you like this outfit?"

"I don't," Bruce stopped and cleared his throat, "I don't care about it, Tony'll make me another one."

"Good." Clint pushed Bruce back a bit, then roughly ripped his white shirt, until it hung open, buttons popped and threads hanging loose. Clint grinned as Bruce blinked down at the ruined cloth and back up at him. "I've always wanted to do that."

Bruce laughed and pushed him back until he was sprawled on the bed. "Glad I can help make your fantasies come true." He smoothed his hands down Clint's chest, pausing to tweak his nipples. Intrigued by the sudden hitch of breath, Bruce lowered his head and delicately licked them, teasing the stiff nubs.

"Bruce, you can't even imagine the fantasies I've had about you," Clint said thickly. "God, okay, wait, I wanna..." Clint managed to push Bruce over onto his back and sat astride his hips. Grinning from his upright position, he scooted back until he could swiftly undo Bruce's pants. He preened under Bruce's muttered gasps and curses as he began to stroke the hard cock his searching hand found. Keeping his hand moving, he pulled it out and began to arrange Bruce's clothes to his liking.

"What are you doing?" Bruce tried to sit up to see better.

Clint squeezed around the flushed head, causing Bruce to groan and drop back to the bed. He squeezed again, and removed his hands completely, scooting back until he could see everything. Bruce lay in a sultry mess, shirt torn, pants hanging open, and erect cock pointing towards his belly, red and thick. 

"I have literally dreamed about this," Clint said softly. He continued, not seeing Bruce's wondering expression, "The first time you kissed me, that night, I dreamed about this, about you...just like this."

"And how does the reality compare?" 

Clint looked up at the hesitance in Bruce's voice. Solemnly, he said, "Well, in the dream you were wearing leather. But silk will do okay, I guess."

"Oh for...come here," Bruce tugged him down, and Clint fell, catching himself on his elbows. He winced a little at the movement, but he tried to cover it by sucking Bruce's ear lobe.

"Hey, no, what was that?" Bruce moved away, and angled himself so he could see Clint's face.

"What?" Clint tried innocently.

"You winced."

"What wince? No wince. Come here."

"No," Bruce shifted again until he was almost free of Clint's embrace. "Clint, is it your head?"

"Bruce..."

"Dammit, Clint," Bruce sighed and sat up. Clint was torn between mourning the loss of contact and moaning at the sight of Bruce, disheveled and still hard. "You're hurt and-"

Clint sat up as well, and crossed his arms. "If you say that we shouldn't do this or we should wait or anything like that, I'll scream. I really will."

Bruce looked back at him calmly, "I was going to say that you're hurt and you're in no condition to deliver on your promise." At Clint's blank look, Bruce raised his eyebrow "You know, rip my pants open and suck my cock? I'm worried the bobbing will hurt your head."

"The bobbing? Wow, you are adorable."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Clint, do you want me to suck you or not?"

"What?"

"Since I don't want you to hurt your head any further, I figured I could blow you instead?"

"Oh my god. Yes. Yes, please. Now, let's, now." Clint hurried to rip off his underwear. His neglected parts sprung up right away at Bruce's suggestion.

"Wait...I thought," Bruce's cheeks were turning pink, "maybe, I could lie back and...you could feed it to me?"

Clint stared at him, mouth dropping open. After several moments, he croaked out, "I think you broke my brain."

Bruce laughed, "So that's a yes."

"Fuck yes, that's yes. Why are we even...Shit, lie back. No, here, like this," Clint popped a pillow behind Bruce's head, then carefully moved so his cock was hovering in front of Bruce's lips.

Bruce looked up with wide eyes, and darted his tongue out to lick at the mushroom head. Clint whimpered. Bruce smirked and sucked slowly at the tip. Clint moaned, "Oh my god. I can't believe this is happening. Please tell me that this is happening. I didn't, I dunno, die because some idiot shot me in the face?"

Bruce blew out a stream of hot air, watching Clint shiver. "You're alive," he said, "and this is happening."

"Okay, good, that's good." Clint wrapped one hand around himself and tangled the other in Bruce's hair. "If it gets too much, just tap me on the thigh, and uh, I'm gonna pull your hair, okay?"

"Yes, please," Bruce said politely.

Taking a deep breath, Clint lowered his hips to trail his cock along Bruce's lips, fascinated by the way that Bruce chased it, tongue darting out to try pull it into his mouth. He tapped softly on Bruce's bottom lip, swallowing hard at the resulting moan. Then slowly, slowly, he dipped into the waiting heat. He paused while Bruce wrapped his lips around the sensitive head, suckling gently. With a groan, he pushed deeper.

Bruce's hands came up to clutch at Clint's thighs, gripping tightly. In the back his mind, Clint realized that he might have bruises tomorrow. The thought of Bruce leaving his marks had him tilting his head back and pushing his hips again. 

"Bruce, oh my god, Bruce, I can't," Clint panted as his eyes closed, his hips moving to a slow rhythm. He tugged at Bruce's hair, and whimpered at Bruce's whine. He tugged harder. With an effort, he looked down at Bruce, who was staring up at him, watching every expression.

"Bruce, you...you're amazing. Your mouth, god your mouth is so good, so hot, and fuck, look at you," he rolled his hips harder, deeper and Bruce groaned sending vibrations through Clint's cock. He felt Bruce's hands stroke around to his ass, fingers smoothing and squeezing. He thrust again, pulling sharply at the curly hair in his hands. Bruce's eyes almost rolled back into his head.

Clint gasped, "You're just taking it, taking me." God, he was close, he was so close, but he wanted...he pulled back until it was just the head in Bruce's mouth. Bruce was still desperately sucking, tongue stroking all around. "Bruce, I wanna mark you. You're mine, I wanna...please, can I?"

Bruce nodded as much as he could, as he opened his mouth wide to take Clint back in. Clint pushed back in, and that's when he felt Bruce's finger trace over his hole. The friction and the roughness conflicted with the wet heat, and Clint was suddenly..."Fuck, Bruce!"

He pulled out and jerked his cock roughly, striping over Bruce's chin and mouth. He cursed at the sight of Bruce sticking out his tongue, trying to catch his come. Slumping against the headboard, panting, he trailed a finger through the mess on Bruce's face, scooping up his come into Bruce's mouth. Bruce frantically sucked his finger, moaning. Distantly, Clint realized that Bruce's hands had left his body, and were busy elsewhere. 

"Nuh-uh, come here, come here." Clint slid off and pulled Bruce until he was almost sitting in Clint's lip, fisting his cock in the vee of his open pants. 

"Clint," Bruce pushed his forehead against Clint's. "I need you, please!" 

"Yeah," Clint breathed, "but this way." He wrapped his fingers on top of Bruce's and smoothed out his stroke, forcing Bruce to go slower. Bruce let out a frustrated whine, and Clint smirked at him.

"I'll get you there," Clint whispered in his ear, and Bruce shivered at the promise in Clint's voice. "You're so fucking amazing, Bruce. Look...look at you." Bruce groaned, and with an effort, looked down at his cock thrusting into their joined hands.

"Yeah, you're so fucking hard in my hand. You've wanted this for long time, haven't you? You've wanted me to fuck you just like this?" Clint guided Bruce's hand, twisting just under the flushed head, thumb rubbing across the slit. "Just wait, just wait, Bruce, after this, I'm gonna lay you down and toss your legs over my shoulders, use my tongue, and get you so wet and ready for me and then-"

With a cry, Bruce came, spurting over their linked fingers. Panting, he lowered his head to Clint’s shoulder, and Clint pressed kisses to his hair and temple, smoothing a hand over his trembling back. After a moment, Clint let out a satisfied sound and gently tipped them over so they landed on the bed. Bruce rolled onto his back and wiped his hand on his pants, trying to catch his breath. Clint closed his eyes and listened to their breathing slow.

After a moment, he heard a muttered, "Well, shit."

Clint’s eyes snapped open, "What’s wrong?"

Bruce looked at him with sheepish smile, "I just wiped my hand on my pants."

"Huh." Clint propped himself up on an elbow. "Well, I did say we were going to ruin this suit." Unable to resist, he reached out to rub his fingers through Bruce's chest hair.

"You did say that." A small silence fell as Bruce watched Clint’s fingers dance down across his stomach. "Uh, I think my jacket’s still okay, though."

Clint’s fingers stilled, "Oh?"

"Yeah." Bruce's mouth went dry at Clint’s heavy lidded gaze.

"Well," Clint said, climbing on top of Bruce. "We should fix that. Right now." He bent down and swallowed Bruce's laughter in a kiss.

~<>~

Clint woke up to the smell of coffee. Before he could think of stumbling out of bed, Bruce walked in, carefully holding a tray laden with coffee, toast and eggs.

"Whoa, food."

"Yeah," Bruce smiled shyly. "Are you hungry?"

"Fuck, yeah." Bruce settled the tray, and arranged some pillows behind Clint so he could be comfortable sitting up.

Clint happily munched for a minute before he stopped, confused, and said, "Wait, I don’t have food."

"Oh yeah, Kate dropped by this morning with groceries. I met her girlfriend, uh...America?"

"Kate was here?" Clint looked to the door apprehensively, as if he thought she would burst in at any minute.

"Yeah, she left though." Clint sighed in relief. "But she said she’d call to yell at you later." Clint’s shoulders slumped and he pouted.

"Wait a minute," he looked up again, his eyes narrowed. "Were you dressed like that when she came by?" He waved his fork indicating Bruce’s bare chest, and baggy sweatpants.

Bruce smirked, "Yeah, there might have been some ogling on Kate’s part."

"Damn it!" Clint threw his fork down. "Where's my phone? I’m gonna tell her off."

Bruce laughed, "Calm down. I did tell her that you wouldn’t be happy that she was ogling your boyfriend. To which she replied that next time you should make sure you’re healthy enough to stop her. I think she was pretty worried about you."

Clint sighed, "Yeah I know. I need to...wait, what?"

"What?" Bruce broke off a piece of toast.

"Did you just say boyfriend?"

Bruce stilled, then slowly put down his toast. He cleared his throat, "Well yeah. You said by occurrence number five of anything you need to name it. And by my count, this is number six of my/you making moves on you/me. So I named it...if that’s okay?"

Clint grinned, "Oh, Bruce, that is more than okay. In fact, _boyfriend_ , as soon as I finish this breakfast, I’m going to show you how okay it really is."

"Oh, good, then I have time to clean up the kitchen."

"He cooks and cleans? I’ve hit jackpot."

Bruce laughed as he went back out to the kitchen. Clint called after him, "Hey, when you came back, you should be naked!" He continued to eat his breakfast gleefully. Food and sex and all before noon: life was perfect. 


End file.
